


Things We Don't Talk About

by BewareTheIdes15



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Clubbing, M/M, Sibling Incest, Weechesters, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-06
Updated: 2011-07-06
Packaged: 2017-10-21 02:38:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/219967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BewareTheIdes15/pseuds/BewareTheIdes15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had to be the sex demon getting them to do this, right? Those things could do this kind of shit, make people all horny and crazy. He thought. He actually couldn't remember much of anything with Sammy's tongue flicking hesitantly at his, like he wasn't really sure if that was ok.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things We Don't Talk About

Dean cast his gaze around through the dark and the flashing lights to find Sammy. It had only been about four seconds since the last time he'd looked, so his little brother hadn't moved from his spot on the wall. Dean sighed again with relief and let the girl trying to hump his leg and call it dancing, move a little closer. If she noticed that he wasn't paying much attention to her, she didn't seem to care.

He tried to look around the mass of dancing bodies for anyone suspicious, but between the lights and whatever kind of mist stuff was floating in the air, he doubted he would have seen it if a fucking chupacabra was running around.

His eyes slid back over to his brother - sometimes it was really convenient that the kid was like half a foot taller than anyone else in the room, it made keeping an eye on him in this mess a lot easier. Dean had not been happy with the idea of Sammy coming out on this hunt, but he'd had to agree that Dad would set off alarm bells the second he stepped inside the club.

The place had developed a reputation as the hottest nightspot around, and Dean could see why, the air was so heavy with sex he'd gotten half-hard as soon as they stepped through the door. Unfortunately, several of its patrons had turned up as human raisins in their homes over the last couple of weeks which could only mean a succubus or an incubus. Winchester's to the rescue!

Some guy was leaning against the wall with Sam now, clearly trying to hit on his oblivious little brother. He wondered how Sammy would react, knowing that he'd attracted a guy - a dark, secret part of him hoped that Sam might like it.

The bouncers hadn't even bothered to ask for Sammy's fake ID when they'd come in; at almost 17 he was tall enough to pass for grown and hot enough that they didn't really give a fuck if he was legal.

And he was fucking hot. Which was ok for Dean to think because attracting the thing's attention with hotness was basically their job right then and there was nothing wrong with noticing that his baby brother had grown into a good looking guy. Or the fact that, if Dean hadn't been related to him, he would have been putting that other guy's sad attempts at flirting with Sammy to shame. As long as he didn't do anything about it, there was nothing wrong with looking.

Sammy was definitely worth looking at, too. Baggy ripped jeans - they didn't even make anything form-fitting in 'freakishly tall and thin' sizes - slung low on his hips, bunched around black motorcycle boots; skintight black t-shirt that was just a little too short - because it was Dean's - and showed off a delicious line of tan skin and hard abs and that fucking little muscle where his hip and thigh joined that made Dean's mouth water. There wasn't an inch of that exposed skin that didn't need his mouth's immediate, personal attention and - fuck! Find the incubus, find the incubus, find the incubus.

Dean had never thought about his little brother being self-conscious - shy, yeah, but what did Sammy have to be self-conscious about? - until the fight over getting dressed that night. Sam had wanted at least two more layers on and had flat out refused to wear the wifebeater that showed off his broad, muscular shoulders and made Dean excuse himself to the bathroom for a minute after Sam had tried it on.

Even after brow-beating Sammy into wearing what he had on, the kid had spent half the night tugging at the shirt like he was going to make it bigger just from pulling. Not to mention the fact that he had brushed off everybody - and there had been several - who'd tried to pick him up, mainly by staring at the ground and refusing to acknowledge them.

Mostly that would have been ok by Dean - his protective streak acted up at just the idea of some stranger getting all grabby with Sammy the way the girl Dean was dancing with was - but they were there to give off lots of sexual energy and bait the monster into following them. Sam needed to do his job, damnit! And that fucker needed to get his slutty little fingers off of that muscle on Sam's hip!

Dean was already shoving his way through the crowd before he realized he'd decided to go help Sammy out. After all, the kid was still pretty innocent; he didn't need to have some club skank rubbing all over him. It was Dean's sacred big brother duty to protect Sammy’s' virtue... or something. Whatever, that sonofabitch was done touching his brother.

His hands hit to wall on either side of Sam's head, bodies molding into one long line that forced that prick's hand out of the way. Sam looked too stunned to move.

The bastard who'd been hitting on him shouted, "Hey!" over the music, grabbing at Dean's shoulder. He shot the guy a smile then leaned in to Sammy's ear and said,

"Kiss me."

Because the guy next to him wasn't going to give up without a little proof that they were together and not at all because Dean had been thinking about it on a daily basis for almost three years.

Sammy had at least regained enough motor function to blink stupidly at Dean for a second before slowly leaning in. He didn't quite go far enough to touch their lips together, hovering at almost-there like he thought maybe Dean was going to start laughing at him any second and call him gullible. Which was basically the very bottom of Dean’s 'stuff I want to do' list and to prove it, he pressed forward just that little bit more to feel the slide of Sam's lips - was he wearing lip gloss? Where the hell did he get lip gloss? - on his own.

And yes, definitely lip gloss, cherry flavored, which was nice on some random girl Dean might make out with, but awful now because it was keeping him from tasting Sam. The only logical solution was to take Sam's lips one at a time into his mouth and suck them clean until there was nothing but the indefinable, incomparable flavor of Sammy.

If the guy who'd been trying to pick Sam up was still standing there, Dean hoped he was enjoying the show, because there wasn't even any point in pretending he wasn't drinking down Sammy's moans like a man dying of thirst and rolling his instantly hard dick against his brother for any reason other than because Dean wanted to.

Sam didn't seem to mind either though; those big hands spreading across Dean's hips to pull him even harder into Sam's engorged length. Dean spared half a second to run his hands down his own body and reposition Sammy's to grip his ass. Whatever the hell was going on here, he was damn well going to enjoy the full-effect while it lasted.

It had to be the sex demon getting them to do this, right? Those things could do this kind of shit, make people all horny and crazy. He thought. He actually couldn't remember much of anything with Sammy's tongue flicking hesitantly at his, like he wasn't really sure if that was ok. Sam could probably give him and encyclopedic rundown on all things Incubi, but his mouth was busy doing much more important things, and Dean coaxed the pink muscle of Sam's tongue to work against his just to make sure it stayed that way.

If it hadn't been Sammy's mouth on his, it wouldn't have even ranked in the top kisses of Dean's life - teeth clacking at random intervals when Sam tried to move his head, noses bumping, way too sloppy with the tongue action - but it _was_ Sam's mouth on his, Sam's hands on his ass, Sammy's soft hair wrapped around his fingers and Sam's scent and heat and taste just fucking everywhere, so this took the number one slot, no questions asked.

Typical Sam, whatever he lacked in finesse, he made up for with pure determination and it was kind of spine-melting to have all of that willpower directed solely at making Dean feel good. He could only imagine what that would be like in bed.

For a couple of seconds, the pure wrong of that thought almost made him stop, even as the ache in his balls was screaming for more. But Sammy had always been able to read him like a book on some stuff - fucking handy on a hunt, shitty when he didn't want to talk about something - so he moved one of those massive hands off of Dean's ass - he almost whined at the loss - and pressed it to the back of Dean's head, keeping him exactly where he was. And, really, it was hard to argue with an eloquent point like that, so Dean just licked his way back into Sammy's mouth and enjoyed the way everything inside of him went liquid.

Except that it suddenly occurred to him that there was virtually everywhere on Sam's body that he hadn't kissed yet and that just was not going to fly.

Almost painfully, Dean broke the kiss - taking the serious risk that doing so was going to make his cock spontaneously combust - and started tugging Sammy along the wall to where he could see the bathroom dimly illuminated. Sam was almost stepping on top of him trying to keep close, that long hard dick pressing into Dean's back. It took everything he had not to just stop and grind his little brother off in front of all of those people.

Fuck if it wasn't the most wrong thing he had ever done to pull Sammy into the men's room, past some guy taking a piss who shot them a look when Dean shoved the younger man into a stall and followed him in. He hadn't even really paid any attention to the look, but apparently Sam had because he was blushing like he'd just walked through the club naked. Or maybe he was just nervous. Or maybe... maybe he wanted to stop. Maybe this was too much - fuck that, this was definitely too much - and Sam was trying to figure out how to tell Dean 'no'. Maybe -

Maybe Sammy was going to shove him up against the stall door and start tongue fucking him. The kid was nothing if not a fast learner.

"Dean, Dean, Dean," Sam was panting, pressing his name right into his skin as he kissed frantically around Dean's chin and jaw. Which reminded him of why he'd dragged them in there in the first place. Sam was humping up against him like the horny teenager he was and - fuck, so messed up, so fucking wrong and hot and yes - it took Dean two tries to get Sammy's pants sliding down.

Damn, just damn. He had sort of guessed it would be big before, what with everything else on Sam's body just being fucking enormous and having seen it soft more times than he could count, but actually looking down at Sammy's hard length - dark purple and positively soaked with precome - made something weird happen to his guts like all of his internal organs had decided to play musical chairs.

There really wasn't any way in the world that he could not sink to his knees and start licking at it like it was the best damn thing he'd ever tasted. Which it so was. Bitter and salty and sweet and hot and just Sam all over the tongue, turning his lips slick. Sam was trembling so hard it seemed like the only thing keeping him upright was the death grip he had on the top of the stall.

There wasn't going to be much guesswork about what they were doing in there if anybody came in, between Dean's clearly visible knees and Sam's fingers sticking out and the fucked-out, getting-murdered-and-loving-it sounds pouring out of Sammy's mouth but unless they planned on dragging Dean away - and just let them fucking try - he wasn't going to stop until he had a whole mouthful of white, hot _Sam_ and could finally die happy.

Dean was giving his little brother everything he had, every trick he'd ever used or had used on him to make sure that nobody who came after him - his fingers dug into Sam's hips hard enough to leave perfect round bruises at the thought of somebody else doing this - would ever come close to topping this for Sam. No matter what happened when this was over, he was going to have a permanent place in Sammy's head as the best damn blow job he ever got.

He took Sam down to the base, his nose pressed in tight dark curls and wished he could breathe right so he could really enjoy Sam's musk. Doing his best to keep his throat tight and flexing, he let his tongue sneak out just a little bit and touch the soft skin of the sac and it was a really good thing that he had those few years on Sam because it meant that he probably wasn't going to blow his wad just from having his little brother's hands suddenly fist in his hair.

The mantra of his name falling over Sammy's lips dripped like warm honey down his spine and he could probably learn how to survive without breathing if it meant this didn't have to stop. Except he could fucking feel the rush of blood in Sam's dick pulsing against his tongue and he knew exactly how soon this was going to be over. It took way more effort than it should have to haul himself most of the way off of Sammy's dick, curling a stroking fist around the shaft and concentrating all of his effort on the crown.

Sam's hissed breath as Dean circled the slit just added another spark to the flash of heat that was going to consume him, burn him up until there was nothing left but all of the bits that were touching Sam. He was drifting somewhere strange; halfway between with the muggy haze that weighed down his body and the razor-sharp focus that hunting had drilled into him, now all for his brother and what he needed - it had never really been for anything else.

He was learning every twitch-flex of muscles under his flingers, across his lips, dragging it out just a little bit longer because it was the chance of a lifetime and he might never get it again. Sam was doing a hell of job hanging on and he wondered if the same things were going through his little brother's head.

Then, because he had to, because he wanted the wet pulse of Sam's pleasure as bad as he wanted to keep the weight of Sammy on his tongue forever, Dean slid the pad of his free hand through the slick of saliva and precome smeared on Sam's cock and reached around to feel that hot hidden pucker go tense. He didn't even slide it in, just the pressure of it there enough to send Sammy over the edge, filling him up faster than Dean could swallow so that some of it poured down over his chin, splattering on his bent knees.

He sucked him through the aftershocks until Sam had gotten too sensitive and let out a high whine.

Without Sam's need to focus on Dean's own came roaring back reminding him that, hey, he had a dick - a really hard, desperate, going-to-shrivel-up-and-die-without-some-attention-right-fucking-now dick. It felt like his balls were trying to climb up into his intestines.

"Sammy," he panted, standing as gracefully as he could with his little brother practically falling on him, "Need, God, I need-"

"Anything," Sam gasped, right against his ear, and that was almost enough right there.

Dean jerked Sam's loose, pliant body face first up against the wall of the stall - fucking miracle nobody had called the management on them yet - and froze.

He could do it, spread Sam open and probably pop his cherry there in the dirty bathroom of a club they were supposed to be hunting a monster in, with Dad waiting for them back at the motel. But he didn't have any lube, and even with a condom and spit, it would hurt like a mother fucker since he just knew he didn't have the patience to wait and work Sam open really good. Yeah, he could do that, but he wouldn't, even if not doing it felt like dying.

Instead he flipped his jeans open in record time and pressed his aching cock between Sammy's thighs, the head sliding up against his balls making them both shiver. Sam leaned back into him, tensing up his legs for Dean to fuck, fast and hard.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," he mumbled into Sam's shoulder, not even sure which part he was apologizing for. He slid his arms around Sam's front; one crossing his chest to get a firm grip on his little brother's shoulder and really work some leverage, the other finding Sammy's pebbled nipples through the thin shirt and playing with them in little pinches and tugs that had the younger man tightening up even more for him, and adding fresh moans to the overheated air.

"Not sorry," Sam gasped back after so long Dean had almost forgotten he'd said anything, "'S good. So good, Dean. Come for me, please, want to feel it, Dean."

Dean's world went white hot at the words - he'd always been good at taking orders - and every muscle in his body spasmed, jerking and thrusting, blunt nails dragging down Sammy's chest to get him writhing too.

Dean came back from the haze of bliss slowly, to the feel of Sammy licking the remains of his own come off of Dean's chin. The angle was just off enough to prevent a kiss but not enough to keep Sam from pressing soft lips to the edges of Dean's mouth. His own lips responded stumblingly, none of his usual prowess apparent in the fumbling rub of their bruised mouths. He wondered if Dad would notice the swelling.

It was more effort than it was worth to peel himself off of Sam, but they really were supposed to be doing a job, not that he could remember why he should care at the moment.

Sam pulled up his pants, not even bothering to clean up the mess Dean had spilled all over his groin and gave Dean this lazy, raw sort of grin that was a whole new expression on his little brother's face. Finally finished doing up his pants and with absolutely nothing left to occupy him, Dean at last had to meet those sex-blown hazel eyes.

Sam looked more completely content than Dean could remember seeing him in a long time, just leaning against the stall door, daring Dean to try and open it. Well, Dean Winchester did not back down from a dare, especially from his little brother, so he took the half-step to close the distance between them and flicked the lock open. Sam didn't move.

Dean was just gearing up his unresponsive muscles to pull Sammy out of the way, when the younger man gave a full body roll that brought him away from the door, pressing every inch of him into contact with Dean in the process.

"Next time I want you to fuck me," he whispered, breath tickling Dean's ear.

Then, cool as a cucumber, Sammy walked out, like committing incest in a public bathroom was no big deal at all.

The kid might turn out to be a Winchester yet.


End file.
